


Endings and Beginnings

by potentiality_26



Category: Longmire (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, Mentions of Ed Gorski, Multi, Off-Screen Gaslighting, Pre-OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2425769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potentiality_26/pseuds/potentiality_26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>She’d gone about it badly- the whole moving to a new house thing.  Between the stuff Sean had taken with him when he transferred to another damn country, and the stuff she had never wanted to see again after he did, and the stuff she didn’t feel like unpacking now that it was here, the place was basically unfurnished.</em>
</p><p>Vic's housewarming- such as it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endings and Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [my hc_bingo](http://potentiality-26.livejournal.com/50135.html) square _gaslighting_. This is entirely TV canon, and I’ve labeled it as such, but it was somewhat inspired by book canon- mainly the part in _Hell is Empty_ when Vic has moved into her own house and Walt is supposed to have dinner there with her and Henry but doesn't make it because he's Walt, and also Walt’s general book canon tendency to invite Henry along on his dates. 
> 
> This fic is ultimately me trying to work through how unsatisfactorily I thought the Ed Gorski plotline was resolved (as far as Vic's characterization is concerned), but it's set in some nebulous post-S3 future where things have calmed down, and Vic's divorce is finalized.

Vic was sitting on the kitchen floor, back against a cupboard, knees hugged to her chest. There was a knob digging into her back and this was a bad idea. “This is a bad idea,” she said, taking a too-large sip of wine.

She’d gone about it badly- the whole moving to a new house thing. Between the stuff Sean had taken with him when he transferred to another damn country, and the stuff she had never wanted to see again after he did, and the stuff she didn’t feel like unpacking now that it was here, the place was basically unfurnished.

“There aren’t even chairs,” she observed.

“It will be like a picnic,” Henry said from next to the stove. When he glanced at her, his dark eyes glinted. He actually seemed like he was having a pretty good time, which was amazing because she was terrible company right now.

Then again, Henry was used to Walt, so his idea of stimulating conversation was probably actually very skewed.

She eyed Henry. He wasn’t cooking, exactly- her kitchen currently wasn’t up to that- but he was heating up something he’d made at home or at the Red Pony and brought over. Vic had already known it was soothing to be around him, but she’d never felt quite like this before and he made whatever it was feel okay. Henry never seemed to expect much of the person he was talking to- probably, again, because he was used to Walt.

He hadn’t even batted an eye when she sat down where she did- she liked having something solid against her back these days- but she wasn’t sure how it would be when Walt got here. He wouldn’t try to talk her out of whatever she was feeling, he wasn’t like that, but… Walt had a way of feeling bad because you were feeling bad that made you feel guilty for feeling that way, and then it just kept getting worse.

Vic had invited Walt this little housewarming because she couldn’t avoid him forever, but now she just felt wrong. She was jittery and jumping at shadows, and though he had already seen her at her worst she didn’t want him to see it again.

“It does bear mentioning that if Walt does not get sidetracked by some crisis in the next fifteen minutes, it will in fact be unprecedented,” Henry remarked, as if he’d read her mind. That, or he just knew what it was like to be around Walt while... emotionally fragile. Vic tried and failed to picture Henry emotionally fragile, but over the course of forty years of friendship- and the last few hellish months- it had to have happened at least once.  

She laughed because he was probably right. When she took another sip of wine, her hand was shaking. “Fuck,” she whispered, stretching up to set the glass on the counter. She’d been a mess, lately, and sometimes she didn’t even know why. The moving part had made it worse, which was odd because she’d wanted to see it as a turning point- letting go of her old problems and building a new life without them. Instead, all the old problems had seemed to just loom bigger and larger than ever.

Henry crouched down in front of her and put his hands up like he was showing her that he didn’t have any weapons, and Vic figured out that he was saying he’d hug her if she wanted him to, but wasn’t just going to do it. That was nice in itself. She put her arms around his neck and his hands slid over her back. Her nose was buried in his hair. It was starting to get long again; she liked it and wondered why he’d ever cut it.

Vic kept thinking about Ed Gorski. She didn’t really understand it, since it had been months since he’d left- and she’d really believed, that last time, that he wasn’t coming back. He’d never been in this house, anyway, and both those thoughts should have been more comforting than they were. She hated to think that he was going to leave her alone now because he’d decided to, because he was taking pity on her or whatever. Gorski had left of his own accord, and so- for completely different reasons- had Sean. Maybe that was why she kept thinking about him. As sure as Vic was that her life was going to get better from here, it had still shaken her confidence to know that of all the upheaval in her life, none of it had been of her own making. She had made none of it happen, and she wanted to be the one who made the things happen, even if they weren’t good things.    

Vic heard a knock that was definitely Walt. If the fact that he was here was unprecedented, she didn’t know what the fact that he was early was. She said so to Henry, and he laughed right up against her ear. She laughed too, and tried to get up. Still smiling, Henry stood and helped her do the same. Her fingers twisted around his and she felt herself disinclined to let go. She noticed that she was crying and found herself attempting to make herself presentable one handed. She finally let go and went to open the door.

“Hey,” Walt said. If he’d noticed that she was crying- of course he had- he didn’t draw attention to it- of course he didn’t.

He had flowers.  “I don’t have any vases,” Vic told him. “Not handy, anyway.”

But when she led Walt into the kitchen, Henry produced a jar well suited to the purpose. Maybe he’d known what Walt was going to bring. It seemed to Vic like Henry always knew what Walt was going to do- sometimes before Walt did.

“They’re nice,” Vic said, to say something. She probably looked awful. Henry settled next to her and she found herself leaning against him without thinking about it. He was nice to have at her back- maybe even nicer than the cabinet. He slender but strong, and solid in more ways than the physical. Being close to him was a lot like being close to Walt, but not as complicated.  With Henry, she didn’t have to think about all the things she had to think about with Walt. Like the dead woman he’d never completely let go of, or the way she’d ruined things for him with Lizzie without doing much of anything, or the way he’d ruined things for her with Sean doing even less.  Of course, she couldn’t really blame Walt for Sean. Oh, Sean had been jealous of the ‘something’ between them- it was a part of why he’d eventually taken that transfer- part of why she could never have gone with him. It wasn’t Walt’s fault she’d decided to stay, exactly- or maybe it was, but the reason she couldn’t leave him wasn’t because she had feelings for him that she couldn’t explain and had trouble addressing- those feelings made her more inclined to go than stay. It was because of what happened with Gorski, how he’d handled it. And the hell of it was that he didn’t even know the whole story- neither of them did. Maybe she ought to explain it. Maybe she’d feel better if she did. “Can we-”

She felt weak, suddenly, and she sat down again against the cabinet- except this time Henry’s arm was around her shoulders and her head was against his bicep. First she glanced at the stove and noticed that he had turned it off without seeming to leave her side. Then she look at Walt. He didn’t seem jealous, or uncomfortable- which was a first, because Walt looked uncomfortable a lot. He just offered her his hand. She took it, and threaded their fingers together.

“I want to tell you what happened in Philadelphia,” she said.

“Didn’t you?” Walt asked. He glanced at Henry, who tightened his grip fractionally- just enough. She couldn’t see the glance they exchanged and doubted she would have been able to read it even if she had. It had always amazed her, how the two of them sometimes seemed to function as one.  

“Not everything. Not-” she sighed. “What I didn’t say was- Gorski was good, you know? The… the things he did. A lot of the time, I didn’t have proof. I’d find things rearranged in my locker, or in my _house_ \- but it’s hard to make anybody believe that really happened, especially with him being the way he was. He’d send me things, but then they wouldn’t be there anymore, and… obviously, he denied it all. Sean believed me, but I think more because he felt he had to than because he ever saw any of the things that happened. I don’t know if anybody but me ever saw them. And when nobody believes it- when nobody else sees… for a while, I really thought I was going crazy. When he came back into my life here, I was scared it was gonna happen again. But it didn’t.” She’d been staring straight ahead, but she finally looked at Walt. “One thing you never did was question that I saw what I saw. That what happened… that it happened.” It was difficult for her to articulate, most of the time, but being made to doubt her own senses was probably the worst thing that had ever happened to her.

“Of course it happened,” Walt said, holding her eyes.

“Yeah,” she agreed. And having felt that trust- that respect- she hadn’t been able to make things right with Sean- hadn't even tried, although God knew it would have been simpler. She squeezed Walt’s hand. There was a moment where none of them moved or said anything, and Vic felt a part of herself grow lighter. Then Henry shifted to withdraw his arm, and she made an annoyed sound.

His breath huffed out softly in a quiet chuckle, and his fingers slid over her neck.

Vic was still looking at Walt when she said, “Please.” Henry started to massage the back of her neck, working muscles she hadn’t realized were to so tight. “Sorry about the chairs,” she added.

“It’ll be like a picnic,” Walt said.

Vic laughed- a sharp, awkward snort she wasn’t very proud of. She felt wrung out emotionally, but also more secure. She still wanted something at her back, but she liked that it could be Walt or Henry. She heard Henry laugh too, and Walt smiled, not minding that he wasn’t in on the joke. Henry withdrew his hand to go to the stove and this time she let him go, but not before it had occurred to her how very talented his fingers were. Not before she’d had a flash of heat thinking about what other use they might be put to.

She flushed, but only a little. Walt settled by her side against the cabinet, warm and solid next to her shoulder, and she kept her eyes on Henry. It occurred to her how handsome he was, and it wasn't for the first time. She wondered if she was going to be able to say that being near Henry was uncomplicated for much longer, but decided she would. He obviously felt her eyes on him, and he obviously didn’t mind one bit. But women- sex- didn’t make Henry uncomfortable the way they- it- did Walt. He could touch her platonically, or not so platonically, and not spend hours over-thinking it, the way she knew Walt would if she ever so much as kissed him.

Vic glanced at Walt, and noticed that his eyes were on Henry too. There was a warmth in his gaze that surprised her, and also a kind of fascination- like even after all these years he never got enough of watching Henry move. She noticed, too, that Walt was still holding her hand- something that was, on its own, usually enough to close him up like a bank vault. Vic realized it was because this sort of thing normally happened when they were alone together- and right now Henry was here. He was here and Walt wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was possible that Walt thought of his friend as something of a chaperone. That he thought nothing serious would happen in front of Henry, and so he wasn’t shy of what was between him and Vic the way he was when they were alone together. If that was the way Walt was thinking, Vic’s train of thought would probably shock him, and she smiled a little at the idea. She wasn’t sure it was that simple, though. She thought that Henry grounded Walt. She thought that just by being here, Henry kept Walt from getting caught up in things he didn’t need to feel guilty about. He made Walt feel safe- feel right- in a way he just didn’t the rest of the time, and he’d done the same for Vic, just now. Whyever it was that things were easier right now, Vic didn’t plan on wasting it. Dinner was going to be a lot better than she'd expected, and she planned to enjoy it. And maybe later she’d think again about what it was like to have both their hands on her. All right- she was thinking about it a little now.

Henry flashed a look at her, briefly, and again he seemed to know what she was thinking. Those dark eyes were warm, and the look in them wasn’t particular to Henry. It was universal: _whenever you like_ , they said.     

Vic smiled, brighter now, and bit her lip to keep it back. She looked around her new house and took another breath. It was going to be all right.          


End file.
